Percy Jackson One Shots and Short Stories

#64 - The Avengers (AU) (Part V)

The guard simply sneered at him before throwing Annabeth towards him. She rolled across the floor, form slack like a rag doll in a way that made Percy's heart sink into his stomach.

Percy forced himself to wait until the guards left the cell and were out of sight before he yanked his hands out of the zip ties. His heart hammered maniacally as he fumbled with the restraints around his ankles.

Once he was free, Percy rushed to Annabeth's side, kneeling down as he frantically searched for a pulse. Fortunately, she did have one — weak and fluttering, but it was there, just beneath his fingertips.

"Annabeth," he whispered, voice trembling. "Annabeth, can you hear me?" As he tentatively brushed the hair from her face, Percy shuddered at the scratches on her collarbone.

Her uniform was cut almost into shreds, long incisions made along her ribcage. Percy assumed they'd been trying to bleed her out — not enough to kill her, but to keep her in unconsciousness.

"Jesus Christ," he murmured, voice thick with emotion. "What did they do to you?" he whispered, fist clenching as he gritted his teeth.

A soft groan escaped Annabeth's lips, and Percy sat back down with a mix of relief and concern.

"Percy?" she croaked weakly.

Percy leaned forward, grabbing her hand. "I'm here," he whispered back. "We're gonna get out of here, okay?" Hell, she wasn't even healing. She'd lost too much blood for the serum to do its work.

"AIM," she coughed, blood splattering against her palm. "They're—they're AIM."

Percy gnashed his teeth. "Of course, they are." Annabeth's blood was like the Holy Grail to most scientific organisations — the unprecedented and non-replicable serum. Percy just wished people would see more in her than a blood bag.

As her arms started to shift, Percy released her hand in alarm. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"Going to bust us out of here," Annabeth slurred, clearly not in the right state of mind.

Percy sighed exasperatedly as he helped prop her up against the wall. Sometimes, Annabeth's rock-hard determination and stubbornness was something close to a death wish.

"You can't even sit up," he told her firmly. "You need to recover your energy." Percy lowered his voice, casting a spare glance at the guards outside, who were preoccupied with their own conversation. "Look, I have a plan."

Even in her daze, Annabeth's brow furrowed. "You have a plan," she repeated, almost sarcastic.

"Like, 45% of a plan."

"Reassuring," Annabeth muttered. The sickly pallor of her skin was starting to fade into her usual warm colour. "Serum's working, just a bit slowly."

"If you were anyone else you would've died by now," Percy whispered. A tiny part of him marvelled are the wonders of it, but the rest of him really didn't care — all that mattered was that they get out of this alive. "How are you even talking?"

"I've learnt not to question it." Annabeth reaches down gingerly, brushing her palm over her ribs.

"Don't," Percy interjected grimly. "It's not pretty."

Her features twisted into something close to nausea. "AIM is a real bitch."

Percy felt something close to a laugh bubble up in the back of his throat. Annabeth swearing was one of his favourite things in the world. It was so un-Captain America-like, especially paired with her blonde hair and grey eyes.